


Don't Make Me Order You

by AnJoanGrey, Nikte



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: D/s, Dominance/submission, M/M, Mycroft Holmes - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 02:37:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11326914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnJoanGrey/pseuds/AnJoanGrey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikte/pseuds/Nikte
Summary: Sherlock would have never thought that those words, so sweetly said by Mycroft - "Don't make me order you" would have such an impact upon him.





	Don't Make Me Order You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nikte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikte/gifts).



 

They were taking in Sherlock's apartment and everything around them was a mess, because the building across the street had exploded. Mycroft was trying to convince him to work on a case, to recover stolen missile plans.

"Don't make me order you..."

Sherlock had skipped a breath upon hearing that. He had always seen Mycroft as his... owner, the one being which could order him anything, But Mycroft did not know that, and Sherlock did not plan on telling him.

"I would like to see you try..." Sherlock said.

Mycroft lifted an eye-brow. "Is that a challenge, Little Brother?"

"Of course, Brother Mine," he said

Mycroft wanted so much to accept the challenge... the idea of ordering Sherlock around was very seductive... 

"Very well, Little Brother," he finally said, "I accept." And in a blink if an eye Mycroft's demeanour changed completely to that he used at work. He was a sight to behold! He was the picture of a man who hold a lot of power and authority.

If Sherlock had any reaction, deep within himself, nothing reflected on his face. He just continued to re-attune his violin. He pointed the bow at him as if he were challenging Mycroft to a duel, but in fact just studying to see if there was any dust on it.

"Play my favourite piece," Mycroft ordered. He did not raise his voice but it was obviously an order.

Sherlock started to play scales in a rapid tempo, making even John, who was in the room, cringe and frown.

"Really, Sherlock? That is just childish, you just had to say you do not know what my favourite piece is. We all know you could not possible have any idea of it, since you do not care about me at all. Well, would love to stay and play but unlike you, I do have important things to do. Dr. Watson, a pleasure to see you, as always. I will be working at my house if you decide to help with the case, Sherlock. Goodbye." And Mycroft left the apartment and headed to his car.

Sherlock looked downwards for a second, completely stopping playing and putting the violin away.

"What?" he asked John who was staring at him from across the room.

"Nothing... I just do not get the two of you... and I thought my relationship with Harry was complicated... You really do not know his favourite piece? I mean, you know everything about me and we have been living together just for a few months."

Sherlock took the violin and he started playing a soft and complicated variation on the jazz-piece  _Summertime_ , which Mycroft adored, without saying anything to John.

John sighed deeply. "Are we going to take the case? If not, I would like to make plans with my new girlfriend."

"Has Mycroft left the files needed?"

"No. He took them. Either he thought you will say no, or he wants you to go to his house."

Apparently, Mycroft did indeed take up on his dare. How interesting. So, Mycroft thought he would have his... cooperation? His, what - his submission? Noooononono.

"Are you alright?" John asked Sherlock a bit worried since his friend seemed... agitated... which was strange since, Sherlock was always calm and in control.

But Sherlock had immersed deeply into thoughts, staring in the distance, completely unaware of the world around him, and he remained like that until long in the afternoon.

"I am back. Not that you noticed I left..." John said. "I will be spending the weekend at the countryside with my lady. Mycroft sent a message to Mrs. Hudson. He will be sending some workers to fix the windows."

Hearing a mention about Mycroft, Sherlock zoomed back to reality. "What? When? Where is Mycroft?"

"At his house," John laughed. "Do you ever listen to what he tells you? I know he is a brat but he is your brother and he means well, at least most of the time."

Sherlock did not reply, as usual. He just stood up, put his coat on, and he left outside. He walked for a while through the cold air on the Thames' shore, unaware that the steps were taking him to Mycroft's house. When he saw the familiar fence of his house, he felt like frowning at... himself.

"Sherlock," Anthea greeted him opening the fence. "Mr. Holmes is dinning, please omit any comments about his weight, he has not eaten anything all day." And without waiting for an answer the young woman got out and left on a black car.

Hearing that, Sherlock looked downwards for a moment and then decided against entering - he merely turned around and proceeded towards Baker Street.

Mycroft waited for Sherlock all night... of course he never came. What did he expected... He got up from his desk and went to take a shower, after that, he will drink some coffee and resume work... that was his life...

Not completely aware of what he had been doing in front of Mycroft's house, Sherlock had not been aware that his small leather case in which he was keeping his magnifier had fallen out of his pocket, right on the side-walk in front of Mycroft's gate.

Anthea arrived at her usual hour next morning. Mr. Holmes had been in a strange mood lately and he had decided to work from his house; he did not want to socialize at all. He must have had a great argument with Sherlock... She went inside picking up the leather case. 

"Good morning, Sir, I brought your briefcase and Sherlock dropped this last night," she said handing the case too him.

"Thank you my dear," Mycroft said hiding his surprise... so Sherlock did come last night... "That will be all, please go back to the office. I will call you if I need you."

Sherlock spent a sleepless night. In the morning, he dressed and went back to Mycroft's house; this time, he did ring the door.

"Good morning, Little Brother. Your case is on the kitchen table," he said without looking at Sherlock and heading back to his office.

Sherlock thought he was referring to the Bruce Partington case, and he looked around to locate a large dossier but there was no such thing anywhere in the kitchen.

"I don't see it anywhere," he asked, confused.

Mycroft barely refrained from rolling his eyes. He took the leather case and handed it to Sherlock. 

"There, this is what you came here for, right? Now if you excuse me, I have work. You can see yourself out."

"Is that an order?" Sherlock asked, looking at him with strong, deadly eyes.

"I do not have time for this, Sherlock. Do whatever you want," Mycroft said without hiding how tired he was.

Sherlock frowned. He snapped into his detective mode, he looked throughout the apartment, located the yellow dossier, took it and left. For the next 48 hours, nobody heard of him. His mobile phone was turned off, and he did not return to Baker Street at all. 

At some point, John really panicked and called Mycroft. "Hello, Mycroft?"

"Yes, Dr. Watson, how may I help you?"

"Is Sherlock with you?"

"No. I have not seen him in a couple of days. Must be working on a case."

"Well, yes, exactly. He said that the missile plans are out of the country and went out of the door. I have not seen him since, and his mobile phone is turned off."

"I will ask Anthea to look for Sherlock. I really do not have time for this now."

"YOU gave him this case, and you don't even care if he is alright or not??? You just ffff-incredible. Bye."

"I do care, Dr. Watson," Mycroft said after hanging up the phone. And he really cared, he just did not know anymore how to deal with Sherlock especially since the idea of... dominating him had been planted in his head.

Sherlock returned from his mystery trip 48 hours later, looking tired, not shaved, and troubled. Instead of going to Baker Street, he went to Mycroft and rang the door.

"Go take a bath. I will prepare dinner."

"I have come to drop this," he said placing the stolen memory stick, which he had retrieved, into Mycroft's beautiful hand, and closing his fist with his own fingers.

"I said - go take a bath and shave. Then we will have dinner."

Sherlock decided against commenting for now. He entered the house, he hanged his coat and went to the bathroom, where he took a shower and then approached the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror.

"Shave? With what? May I use your razor blade?" he asked, carefully formulating. Was this a game, still, or was it turning into something painfully real?

"Yes, you may," Mycroft said naturally.

Sherlock started shaving with precise and elegant moves; his hair was wet and he looked gorgeous. He had also borrowed a black t-shirt from Mycroft's locker, which smelled like him. He finished shaving and came to the kitchen, leaning against a counter and looking at Mycroft as he was preparing dinner.

Mycroft moved around the kitchen with ease, he may not know how to cook but he certainly could prepare great sandwiches after all it involved using a knife, and he was an expert at that.

Sherlock sat down on a chair.

"Mycroft..." he said hesitatingly.

"Yes, Little Brother?" Mycroft asked placing sandwich and a cup of tea in front of Sherlock.

Sherlock felt difficult to put ideas into words. He remained silent, drinking his tea and studying Mycroft's actions.

Mycroft sat in front of Sherlock eating his own dinner. "Did you have too much trouble retrieving the memory stick? He finally asked, to break the odd mood that had settled between them.

"Forget the memory stick, it is not important."

"Then tell me what is troubling you."

"You. Us. Our little experiment in which we are equally interested. That which started as a joke and now makes your soul cringe in pain. And mine too."

Mycroft clenched his teeth and, after a few minutes of looking at Sherlock, he said: "If you want to stop the experiment, just leave; if not, I will be in the Library." And he got up leaving Sherlock to decide.

"Mycroft. Stop," Sherlock said, standing up.

"Yes, Little Brother?"

Sherlock headed towards him slowly and when he arrived in front of him, he looked downwards for a moment, as if recollecting himself. Then, he took Mycroft's hands into his, and sank to his knees in front of him...

"Sherlock..." Mycroft breathed and grabbing his curls tightly he said: "You realize this ends the experiment, this turns everything real."

"Do you want it to be real? Or is the idea repugnant?"

"I want this... as... unusual as it may seem to others."

"So be it... then."

"How far are we taking this?" Mycroft asked, his eyes serious and full of hunger.

"I will give you my submission completely, my mind, my... body if it interests you. Everything. For 24 hours."

Did Sherlock know how his words affected him? Had he deduced his deepest darkest desires?  Still, if this was a game for Sherlock, if this will only served for his Little Brother to blackmail him in the future, he did not care, so he pulled Sherlock into his arms and kissed him forcefully, as an act of possessiveness, not of love.

Sherlock effectively stopped breathing for a moment, under the powerful, demanding kiss, because it had taken him by surprise, because he had never been kissed before, because it was Mycroft who was doing it...

When Mycroft finally allowed him to breathe, he asked: "Therefore... yes?"

Mycroft had expected Sherlock to push him away the moment he kissed him. But his reaction had been one of acceptance..."Why did you let me kiss you?"

"I told you I am going to give you everything you ask, and by that I truly mean everything, for 24 hours. Out of my own free will. Now, Mycroft, I also deserve to know if you want, or should I better leave?"

"Go to my room. Wait for me there." Mycroft left to his office to order some papers but mostly to order his thoughts.

Sherlock had not received his 'yes' or 'no'. Mycroft was perhaps still playing, or doubting. He had laid his soul in front of Mycroft, on his knees even, and received nothing in return, no acknowledgement.  If Mycroft wanted his submission, he would have it only after offering something in his turn. Therefore, he opened the door and went home to Baker Street.

Mycroft heard Sherlock leaving... Why was it always like this between them? They were never able to communicate properly... They had missed so many moments due to their pride and doubts... Not this time, he will not miss these 24 hours Sherlock was willing to gift him. He sent a quick message and as soon as he stepped out of his house, a car was waiting for him. When he arrived at Bauer Street, he climbed the stairs and entered his Brother's apartment as if he owned the place.

Sherlock had walked home and he had just arrived. He had the surprise of his life when he heard Mycroft come in.

"Yes. The answer is yes I want this... I want you. Now, will you come home with me?"

Sherlock bit his lips to control his powerful emotion, splitting his soul in two...

"Yes, Mycroft. Good night, John, I will be at Mycroft's house."

Mycroft took Sherlock into his arms. "Silly Sherlock, Dr. Watson is not here, he is out looking for you, but do not worry, Anthea is picking him up and taking him to his girlfriend, who is not pleased with her boyfriend running around worried about you."

"He was here 6 hours ago," Sherlock said confused, as if it was not normal for people to go out.

"Yes, he was," Mycroft said tightening his hold Sherlock, he wanted to kiss him again. But not here, it was not safe... "Let's go, the car is outside waiting for us."

Sherlock followed him to the car, wondering what was Mycroft going to do with the 24 hours he had offered to him. When they got to his house, Mycroft helped Sherlock out of the car and lead him to his room without letting go of his hand.

Sherlock was careful not to take any initiative. Mycroft had said a decided YES and had even come for him; now it was his turn to give.

"Undress," Mycroft said calmly, "and then bring me a glass of brandy."

Therefore, Mycroft wanted his body. This was difficult... Sherlock had no experience and he was shy when it came to his own body. He did not even like to wander around in shorts. But he did what he was told, keeping a calm demeanour, his face as always reflecting nothing. He brought Mycroft his brandy, in the correct kind of glass.

Mycroft, who was sitting on a couch near the fireplace, received the glass from Sherlock's elegant hands. 

"Kneel, placing your head on my thighs."

Once more, Sherlock did as told, sinking to his knees It felt strange to stay naked... No one but himself had ever watched his unclothed body. For Sherlock, the 24 hours had crucial importance; he would then decide if he would prolong them, or not. So far, the odds were rather against.

Mycroft started to play with Sherlock's hair. 

"You are so beautiful... I used to envy you... the way you draw everyone's attention just by entering a room and then I started to be jealous of them... They could look at you freely, they could try to conquer you, while I could not."

Sherlock said nothing. Right now, felt a bit like a toy, but he had promised, and he would not say a word against Mycroft's desires.

Mycroft drank his brandy slowly. He did not stop caressing Sherlock's hair. "I will go take a bath, go to bed I will join you there."

Sherlock pulled a bathrobe from the bathroom door, rather angrily, and wrapped himself in it, after which he went to the bedroom, hiding under covers.

Mycroft finished his nightly routine and joined Sherlock in the bed. He took him in his arms tenderly, holding his wrists with one hand. 

"Sleep, Little Brother, you look tired even if you look furious too." He could take Sherlock now if he wanted but that will only make it more difficult to let him go when the 24 hours were gone... This was enough... this had to be enough...

"Finished admiring my naked body?" Sherlock could not help himself.

There it was. The moment Mycroft had feared, when Sherlock pushed him away and threw in his face how sick his desires were...

"There are pyjamas in the closet. Get dressed," Mycroft said, letting Sherlock go and getting out of bed.

Sherlock felt like screaming, he buried his face in a pillow to prevent himself from actually doing it. He took Mycroft's pillow in his arms and he actually started to cry. This was not working.

Was Sherlock crying? Mycroft was really confused. He covered Sherlock with a blanket and hold him tightly, trying to comfort him.

It was the first time Sherlock felt actual concern and... love, tenderness, from Mycroft. Sobbing, he took him in his arms. After a while, his eyes still teary, he sat up. He wiped his eyes with his fists, also confused and upset. After which, he lifted Mycroft's shirt, trying to take it off.

Mycroft held Sherlock's hands between his and, after placing small kisses on each one, he said: "No, love, no need for that. It is enough to have you close."

"I thought it would have been nice to be both naked, instead of me dressing...:

"Yes, it would have been," Mycroft said not getting go of Sherlock's hands. "You cannot say things like that, my Sherlock, it is already taking all of my will power to control my desires."

"I  just... It's just... I never, I mean. I have never undressed in front of anyone. I felt... bad, earlier.  I felt like a slut," he confessed.

"Forgive me, love, that was never my intention. I just wanted to look at you. Memorize you It felt like the best next thing. I will not take you, you deserve your first time to be with the person you fall in love with."

Sherlock lay his head on the pillow and said nothing anymore. He could not convey how he felt to Mycroft, all his... hints had remained unanswered. His eyes were sad and he was aware of this. He closed his eyes. Better for Mycroft not to see.

"You are mine for 24 hours. I forbid you to be sad," Mycroft whispered after placing his head besides Sherlock's and caressing his lips with his thumb.

Sherlock shivered, his entire skin got goose bumps of emotion and pleasure.

"May I ask something of you? I know it was not part of the rules."

"Yes, you may, love."

"At least... will you kiss me?"

"I will, but first tell me why you want me to kiss you."

Sherlock swallowed hard, so many questions, so difficult to answer.

"Because I... I liked it very much when.... when earlier, earlier... you... when you kissed me," he managed to say.

"Okay," Mycroft said dubiously, sensing Sherlock was hiding something. He took him in his arms and kissed him tenderly with all the love he felt but which he will never confess.

Sherlock felt  everything inside him start to melt; he responded to his kiss with equal love, hidden and never confessed but which was now surfacing. Mycroft wanted him, he knew; but he had said he would not... On the other hand, Sherlock could not 'want' anything for now.

"Who is it you think about when I kiss you?" Mycroft asked without anger, but will all the sadness of knowing he will never really own Sherlock. He will never  have his heart or his love... it was not only the fact they were Brothers; it was also the fact Sherlock had made it clear along the years how he felt about him.

"You," Sherlock said simply. At the same time, he wrapped his arms around his neck, pulling him over him, starting to kiss him too out of his own initiative, small, delicate, sweet kisses that showed complete lack of experience, but which did not lack obvious desire and wish for... more.

Mycroft held Sherlock's face between his hands. "You do not even like me," he said confused but feeling hope starting to bloom inside of him.

"Mycroft, Mycroft... it was me who started... all this. It was me who provoked you. Who came to you. Who knelt in front of you. Who now is with you in bed, who asked you for a kiss. Can you really... believe I would do all this out of some masochistic impulse? Or because someone was forcing me? Why do you think this is happening?"

"I do not know. I never know with you. It could only be an experiment."

"You can do better than that."

"You could be trying to see what it's like... I do not know Sherlock, I am afraid of thinking this is about me"

"Mycroft..." Sherlock murmured. "I said 24 hours because I was sure you would get bored and tell me to go home. I love you, Mycroft... And I will stay for 24 years if you let me." He had now said it. There was no turning back. He felt shattered, it had been the hardest thing he had ever said.

Mycroft held him tightly. "My Sherlock. My love. Stay. Stay for as long as you want. I love you."

Sherlock leaned and pressed his lips against his, with all the passion and love he could no longer control. Mycroft kissed back dominating the kiss in a matter of seconds, trailing his hands along Sherlock's body.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around him tightly, sliding his hands under his shirt, attempting to take it off one more time.

"I think it is time I ordered you to undress me," Mycroft joked.

Sherlock sat up, straddled him between his legs and undressed him quickly, skipping a breath at how beautiful he was.

Mycroft blushed. "I know I am not as gorgeous as you, but I do try to take care of my body."

"My body is yours now, Mycroft... as well as all the rest."

"Yes," Mycroft sighed placing his hands around Sherlock's waist. "You are so beautiful... I feel so... unattractive beside you. Come here and let me kiss you..."

Sherlock wrapped himself completely around Mycroft, he felt the need to stop talking before something else happened to spoil the moment **.** All he wanted was Mycroft to do whatever he wanted with him... all his life he felt Mycroft owned him, he felt the need to obey him, to submit to him, but the fear of rejection had made him always overlap  sarcasm, bad behaviour and bad comments to hide his growing weakness.

Mycroft took Sherlock by the waist once more, and turned them over, so he could pin him against the bed; he kept kissing him passionately, while he used his hands to place Sherlock´s arms over his head, to finally grab both his wrists with one hand, while he used the other to explore the rest of his body.

"What are we... doing?" Sherlock asked, starting to sort-of lose it.

Mycroft held Sherlock´s cheek with his free hand. "We are making love, my Sherlock. If you want me to stop, say it now, because I am at the last of my restrain."

"Do not stop. Do what you want to me."

Mycroft took Sherlock´s chin between his thumb and forefinger, making him look deeply into his eyes. "You have no idea of the mechanics of this, do you? My innocent adorable Sherlock."

"I have not," he responded with honesty. "I have never - I swear." He was rather speechless and his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it.

"No need to swear my love, it is obvious," Mycroft said licking and biting Sherlock´s neck. "I do wonder why. You had plenty of opportunities, a lot of people throwing themselves at you, you are gorgeous after all," Mycroft added while at the same time he tormented Sherlock´s nipples pulling and twisting them lightly.

"I only ever wanted you, Master," he said, unable to control what was coming out of his mouth anymore, because this was the way he was calling Mycroft in his mind.

Mycroft groaned at hearing Sherlock call him that, and he bit hard on Sherlock´s neck leaving a mark behind. "You really know your way with words, don´t you, my Sherlock?"

"I only... said... the truth," he said gasping. "But if you want, after 24 Hours... I will call you Mycroft again."

Mycroft held Sherlock´s dark curls tightly: "You will call me  _Master_ whenever we are alone, understood?" he said and kissed Sherlock forcefully to prove his point, at the same time he pushed his hips against Sherlock´s tights to make him feel how much he wanted him.

"Yes, Master," he murmured, after which instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Mycroft's waist.

Mycroft grabbed the lube from the night stand and started preparing Sherlock, kissing him constantly and caressing every part of his body he could reach, he took special pleasure in licking his nipples and biting them lightly.

Sherlock went very still upon finally realizing the 'mechanics'. But at the same time he started to be aroused, and it was the first time for that as well. Mycroft pushed his middle finger inside of Sherlock, searching for his prostate. 

"I will release your wrists now, but you will leave your hands over your head, understood?" Mycroft said doing what he said, using his now free hand to pump Sherlock´s cock. 

Sherlock gasped for air under the impact of the violent, completely new sensations. The things Mycroft was doing to his body... He had never thought it was possible to feel so much, so intense pleasure. He had not quite caught the part in which he was supposed to leave his hands over his head; again instinctively, he extended them to touch Mycroft.

"No, no, my naughty Sherlock, I said you should leave your hands over your head," Mycroft said, taking Sherlock´s hands in one of his. "Do you want me to tie you up?"

"Anything you want, Master," he said, because it was true, he was indeed ready to give him everything. He placed his hands back over his head, abandoning to Mycroft completely. He felt like a doll in his hands... and somehow he knew he would always feel like a doll.

"Anything I want?" Mycroft whispered against Sherlock´s tight, biting it and finally engulfing his lovers cock in his mouth, while he introduced another finger inside of him, lightly rubbing his prostate.

"Yes, anything," Sherlock said simply. He had no idea how  life will be after those 24 hours. They had only vaguely discussed the future. But right now, Mycroft had a right to his submission, and Sherlock wanted to be  very serious about it.

Mycroft played Sherlock´s body for minutes or hours, he wasn't sure, he was enjoying  the fact he could finally touch Sherlock to his heart's content. When Sherlock was a mess and he himself could not hold it anymore, Mycroft penetrated him with slow, sensual moves, making sure to cause Sherlock the least pain possible.

Sherlock did nothing but arch his head and his spine, upon the sensation of fullness... strange how for the first time in his life he felt complete.

"Please," he murmured, "kiss me..." He wanted to feel as much as possible of him

Mycroft moved them into a sitting position, with Sherlock over his lap, never breaking their connection, he started kissing Sherlock, while he moved his lover up and down his shaft.

Completely dizzy with pleasure but also because of the intensity of their union, Sherlock was completely unaware of the passage of time. At some point, he felt Mycroft laying him back on the bed, still inside him, and the first rays of sunshine started to fill in the room.

"Good morning, love," Mycroft murmured. "Sleep a little more, I will take a bath, make a few phone calls and come back with breakfast."

"Yes, Master," he whispered. He was tired; he felt overwhelmed by everything; his entire body was aching. He lay his head on the pillow, drifting away. He had unconsciously addressed Mycroft that way.

Mycroft did exactly what he said, he made sure to rearrange his schedule to spend the whole day with Sherlock. He then prepared some tea and toast and brought them to Sherlock.

Sherlock woke up and sat up, with a small winch of pain. “Don't be smug about it," he warned him with a smile.

"I wasn't planning to," Mycroft smiled back, "Have your breakfast, then I will help you take a warm bath, I am sure that will help you get rid of some of the pain." He also handed Sherlock a couple of aspirins.

"Thanks," he said, gazing at him with dark blue eyes, and studying the way he was biting from a slice of toast.

"Everything alright?" Mycroft asked feeling self-conscious at the way Sherlock was looking at him. 

"Yes.," he said succinctly. "Everything is perfect. How do you want to continue... Master?"

Mycroft took Sherlock´s hand and entwined their fingers. 

"I want you to stay, move in with me. You will have your own room, of course, you do not have to share mine if you do not want to, you can come and go as you please and keep working on cases... I just want you near, but it is your choice, you can return to Baker Street if you want and come here whenever you have time..."

"Very well," Sherlock agreed, then he came and placed his head on Mycroft's knees.

Mycroft started playing with this hair; he knew they had a lot to discuss and arrange, but right now the only important thing was they had finally taken that first step.

 

 


End file.
